


101 Date Nights

by katarh



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9236021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarh/pseuds/katarh
Summary: "I want to experience many more firsts with you."





	1. Le Parfum des Fleurs / Beginnings and Firsts

"Let's go on a date."

The words themselves were inoccuous, of course, as Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikoforov have been "dating" for quite some time now (and are engaged, for that matter.) But the hectic rush of the ice skating season had left them with barely any time outside of practice and travel, especially during the late December crunch when they'd been briefly separated for their respective national championships. Worlds still loomed ahead of them, but both of them were riding off off clean wins in the European and Four Continents championships. The photo of Victor kissing Yuuri's shiny gold medal at 4CC had graced the front page of almost every newspaper around the world - and while Yuuri wanted to melt into the floor every time he saw it, Victor had had half a dozen of them framed and they now flaunted the wall of their apartment.

_Their_ apartment. Where they now sat, on the couch, taking a breather to simply be together. It was early March now. Yakov had ordered them to take a day off before their final prep for Worlds - the first competition where they'd actually have to skate against each other. Yakov had agreed to take on temporary coaching duties for Yuuri so that Victor could focus on his own routines, but after Yuuri had won gold at Four Continents, he seemed a lot less reluctant to do so. Maybe Yakov was finally seeing in Yuuri what Victor had seen all along.

So for once they'd slept in, spent a lazy morning with one another, before their stomachs got the better of them and forced them into the kitchen to eat something.

Yuuri shifted upright from where he'd been lying on Victor's lap, trying not to move his legs and disturb the dog too much. He was trying desperately not to think about Worlds - and getting out of the apartment might be just be the thing to distract him.

"Where would we go?" he asked. His Russian was heavily accented and occasionally broken, but he was determined to get better, and Victor was a surprisingly thoughtful language tutor. Yuuri was still largely unfamiliar with Saint Petersburg, having only learned the route to the ice rink and a place to get his morning 5K jog in with Maccachin in the short time he had lived there.

"Lots of places!" Victor's eyes shone brightly. "There are art museums and parks and tons of nice restuarants we haven't gone to and -"

"Make sure it's someplace we can take Maccachin," Yuuri interjected, patting the dog's head.

"A park, then." Victor reached up and stroked Yuuri's face, his ring gleaming in the low light. "How about the Summer Garden? It's the oldest in the city.... and considered the most romantic."

Yuuri reached up and caught Victor's hand with his own. He knew that gleam in Victor's eyes, and also knew that they wouldn't be getting out of house any time soon unless he hurried them along.

"All right." Yuuri squeezed his hands. "It's a date."

 

* * *

 

The garden was a modest wooded grove not far from a Metro station. The two skaters traveled without too much fear of being recognized - for once Yuuri was the most outstanding of the two, but tourists from Asia were quite common in St. Petersburg so no one put too much thought into why a young Japanese man was in the city riding the trains. They had made it no secret that Yuuri Katsuki had moved to Russia to train (and to be with his fiancé, Victor had added with a wink to one particularly nosy reporter after Four Continents.) But Victor, as handsome as he was, blended in fairly well with the other people of his hometown, especially bundled up for the last of winter's gasp as they were. Only a diehard skating fan might notice them and add two and two together to come up with skating's now most famous power couple, the champions of the world, talking softly to one another on a train.

"It's called the Summer Garden but it's open year round," Victor said, tugging Yuuri along excitedly. Maccachin bounded alongside them, grateful for the freedom and exercise. "The flowers won't bloom for two months, but it's really an outdoor art museum, so the snow doesn't matter."

They walked from sculpture to sculpture, Maccachin sniffing, too well trained to try to mark his territory on a place Victor would not permit. As for Victor, he surprised Yuuri with his depth of knowledge of the classical artists and sculptors.

"I didn't know you knew so much art history," Yuuri admitted, as they sat on a bench in front of a fountain that had been allowed to freeze over for the winter.

"Skating is art," Victor said, staring at the fountain, a tiny smile on his face. "All art is connected. The music, the paintings, your dance."

_Your_ dance, Yuuri repeated to himself, and found himself touching the gold ring on his finger. Victor loved his dancing - and Yuuri had always been one of the better artistic dancers on the ice.

"I've never been to a sculpture garden before," Yuuri finally admitted. "Unless you count the train station at Hasetsu and the squid."

Victor barked in laughter, and now it was his turn to grab Yuuri's hand and kiss the gold ring on it.

"I want to experience many more firsts with you, Yuuri," he said. "The scent of the first flowers in spring. New cities, new museums, new music." Now his smile widened. "Your first world championship." The smile widened just a hair more. "Although I won't give that one up easily."

"I guess we already had our first date in Barcelona," Yuuri said, immediately changing the subject, but smiling despite himself. Skating against Victor really was going to be a dream come true, but his mind backed away from the thought. This trip was supposed to be about forgetting the competition that loomed in a short few weeks.

"Well, I would have said the GPF gala, but since you don't remember it, I guess it doesn't count."

Color flooded Yuuri's face. He was never going to live that down. All he could do was be grateful Phichit hadn't been there, or else all those pictures would have been viral on Instagram the next day.

"Let's make a promise," Victor proposed. "Wherever we go during our travels, let's make sure to have at least one date night to ourselves."

Yuuri nodded in agreement, but Victor surprised him by swooping in for a hug and kiss to seal the promise. When he pulled away, though, Yuuri gave a quick glance around, determined there was no one else in the entire garden, and then pulled Victor down for a much longer kiss, searing heat against the bitter cold of Russian winter.

"I have the sudden urge to go back to the apartment now," Victor panted when they finally broke apart again, the unmistakable glitter back in his eyes. The man was insatiable.

_"Victor!"_

"Okay fine, let's go get some lunch first." Victor stood up, and helped Yuuri stand too, an unnecessary gesture, but an excuse to keep holding hands. "Come along, Maccachin!"

The dog barked in response to his name, and the trio trudged off through the garden.

I want to experience many more firsts with you too, Victor, Yuuri thought to himself, warming at the thought. He squeezed Victor's hand, and got a gentle squeeze back.

But first, they both had to survive their first World championship together.


	2. Anything for Maccachin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Furniture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For YOI Week 2017: Anything For Maccachin

Maccachin was quite possibly the most spoiled dog in existence.

Being the regal creature he was, though, he took the additional affections of the second human who had suddenly joined his master for granted. Where there had once only been one man to pet him and cuddle him, now there were two. He had enjoyed his brief time in Japan - except for those steamed buns which had attacked him out of nowhere - but he was also grateful to be back home in Saint Petersburg.

The second master took him running every morning, and they joyfully bounded along the roads together in the snow.

Both his masters made sure to plan all their trips around him whenever they possibly could. When they went elsewhere in Europe, they'd stay in a pet friendly hotel, and he could join them. When they traveled too far - and that happened sometimes, unfortunately - a kindly old lady would come and feed him, and at his master's insistence, would have a short session with him via the funny screen that let him see and hear them, even if he couldn't smell them. But he knew they were still alive.

Today's day trip was a foray into Udelnaya Flea Markets, open again now that the weather was warm enough so as not to be bitterly cold for the patrons who sold their wares there. Maccachin was perfectly fine in the cold - he had lived here all his life and his master would put a special sweater on him when it got too cold even for his thick curly fur. His masters had mentioned something about looking for shelving, and the flea market occasionally sold vintage furniture salvaged from houses from decades before.

However, due to the nature of their destination, Maccachin had to be leashed. Too many places for him to get lost, his master had said apologetically, as he fastened the leash. Maccachin didn't mind too much - he was in a comfy harness underneath his sweater, and even with the small restraint there would be so many things to smell.

"Come along, Maccachin," the second master said, and tugged him away from a particularly interesting booth that was selling fresh chicken.

The two men scoured the market, ignoring the dog's best efforts to steer them in the directions that he wanted to go. He didn't know what a "shelving" was or why it was so important, but finally one place caught their attention, and the two masters started talking excitedly with a man at the booth in front of a large piece of furniture. Maccachin sniffed around it, trying to help as best he could, but while the smells associated with the large wooden and glass object were unfamiliar and ancient, none of them seemed bad. He decided to show his approval of the object by sitting next to it and thumping his tail excitedly on the ground.

"See, even Maccachin likes it," his master said, and knelt down next to him, giving him a head rub. He licked his hand in exchange.

"Victor, it's 180,000 rubles!" the other one said, visibly distressed.

"Don't worry, my sponsors all renewed their contracts last year. As did yours - and I've already gotten calls from two others, by the way." The other man's mouth formed a small "oh" when he heard that news. "We'll be fine. Besides, it's 19th century Neo-Classical - Russian made too. And in _such_ great condition. We'll never find anything like this again."

"But I thought we came to the flea market for cheap furniture!"

"No, if we wanted something cheap, we'd have gone to Ikea," Victor rebutted. "I said I wanted something _nice_.  Uldelnaya tends to get old pieces like this sometimes as old estates are sold off." His master patted the wooden item. "This is worthy of displaying your world championship gold medal - and it's got enough room for all of mine, too."

Maccachin sensed the moment that the other master caved. "All right. But if those other two new sponsors don't follow through, we're going to have to cancel Yosemite in July."

His master made a dismissive noise, and started talking with the seller of the hotly debated ancient display case.

"Of course you took his side, Maccachin," the second master said, reaching down to scratch his ears. Maccachin leaned into the action - he was a good scratcher. "But once he gets a bee in his bonnet, he's really hard to stop." The warmth and genuine affection in the younger man's voice made Maccachin happy, too. His master deserved to be loved as wholeheartedly by other humans as Maccachin loved him. "Still, I didn't expect our first piece of furniture together to be so.... pricey."

Maccachin barked, the only way he really knew to communicate to the humans that it was going to be okay.

"Yeah, you're right," the second master said, and Maccachin wagged his tail, pleased that the message seemed to have made it across.

His master finished exchanging the ridiculous sum of money, with a few thousand rubles more to have to shipped to their apartment. Maccachin didn't understand human money at all, but it seemed to be a primary source of anxiety for the second master, and of no consequence at all to the first master.

"All right! Let's go get some food. I saw a shawarma stand near the entrance."

The trio padded off to get lunch, Maccachin getting a special meat-only bowl without any bread or vegetables to scarf down.

"Anything for Maccachin," his master said, giving him a big hug just before he passed down the food.

"How old is Maccachin, Victor? Twelve now?"

"Hmmm, thereabouts."

"He's... getting a little on in years, isn't he?"

"He's in excellent health," his master replied defensively, pulling him close in a second hug that took him away from his bowl of shawarma unexpectedly. Maccachin struggled to escape - snuggles were all good and well, but food is food, and any good dog knows his priorities. "I take him to the vet every six months. His pedigree specified that he's from a fairly long lived line." His master stared down at him then, kind face showing faint concern. "I don't know how much longer we'll have with him, but I'm not terribly worried ... just yet."

The second master reached over and joined him in rubbing Maccachin, who accepted the affection but focused all his attention on the shawarma meat, trying to give them the hint that they should probably eat too.

"Well, we've got the rest of the afternoon. Where should we go next?" his master said, changing the subject.

"Probably the dog park. You'd like that, wouldn't you Maccachin?"

Maccachin barked an affirmative when he heard his name.

"It's settled then." The two men finally settled in to eat their sandwiches.

He really _was_ the luckiest dog in the world.


	3. Dinner and a Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has something that is all but impossible for them to do. Yuuri and Victor are no different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOI Week 2017: Day 3 - A Tale of the Sleeping Prince, Most Relatable Character

For Yuuri, making phone calls was one of the hardest things in the world.

Part of it was his personality.  Shy and introverted as they come.  He didn’t understand people, and generally felt uncomfortable talking with strangers.  The other part of it was his overactive imagination dancing an unholy tango with his anxiety – every person on the other end of the phone _judging_ him for his words, or lack thereof.  He could talk on the phone with those he was close to for hours on end, like his mother or Phichit or these days Victor – but a blind phone call to a stranger?

Hardest fucking thing in the world.

And the sad thing was… he was ashamed to admit it to Victor.  It was silly; Victor knew about his anxiety issues and had found that the way to solve his pre-competition jitters was to goad him into getting it out of his system ahead of time.  Catharsis, was the term Victor had used.  The technique had amazingly worked just in time for the World’s competition, allowed Yuuri to eke out a surprising gold medal win over Victor, who had spent the entire next _week_ alternately gloating and pouting.

Yuuri looked at the display case Victor and he had purchased the week before in the flea market.  In it were all of Victor’s medals, the five World gold championships and the new silver hanging out alongside a partner that had been earned years before.  On Yuuri’s side were his new gold, his GPF silver and Cup of China silver, and a half dozen lower awards, including three Japanese national championships.

Seeing them so prominently displayed like that was… soothing. 

Deep breath.  It’s just a phone call.  They want to talk to you.  It’s just a phone call.  They _want_ to talk to you.

He looked at the bottom shelf of the display case.  There was the very first medal he had won at a regional tournament.  He had just turned 16 – winter born skaters were always season behind those born in summer – and he had managed to work his way past a massive stumble in his short program.  Minako-sensei had praised him anyway, and he’d recovered enough in his free skate to capture bronze.  Even then, even despite winning the Japanese national championship for years, he always felt like an impostor.  He'd picked the Grand Prix series as his goal ages ago, not the world championship, so of course it'd be in the world's competition that he actually took gold first. 

That damn gold medal finally proved he wasn't an impostor.  He was an equal to Victor – he was _worthy._

Closing his eyes, Yuuri pressed the shiny green “Call” button on his phone.  Now or never.

“Uniqlo World Headquarters, how may I direct your call?”

“Um, yes.  My name is Katsuki Yuuri, and I’m returning the call of your director of marketing….”

 

* * *

 

 

Hours later, Yuuri lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling.  Both sponsors had come through - two year contracts, no less.  His next two seasons were covered, and he'd be getting more discretionary income than he'd ever had in his life. He’d have to take a break from training to go film some commercials in Tokyo, but somehow he doubted that Victor would particularly mind a trip back to Japan, especially if they were going to swing by Hatetsu for a few days.

Victor came through the door, bearing takeout. 

“Yuuri, did you make those phone calls?”

“I did.”  He didn’t look at Victor.  “Both accepted.  I’ll be signing contracts as soon as they arrive from FedEx.”

Victor dropped the takeout onto the coffee table, and rushed to go grab Yuuri from his prone position on the couch and drag him into an overly excited bear hug.

“I’m so excited!” he said, feathering kisses all along Yuuri’s brow.  “I knew you could do it.  Are you sure you didn’t need me here for moral support, though?”

Yuuri looked away.  “I did…. And at the same time I didn’t.  I would have been embarrassed if you were here, Victor.”

The look that Victor gave him was genuinely hurt.  “Darling, what on earth was there to be embarrassed about?”

“…. What if they had said no?”

“Yuuri!  You’re the _world champion of men’s figure skating._   Why would they ever tell you no?!”

Victor gave him a silent hug and then said no more.  Asking Yuuri to explain himself would result in a circular argument, one they’d had many times before.

Yuuri’s eyes closed as he leaned into the embrace, grateful for the love of the man he’d admired all his life.  When Victor wasn’t around, the doubt would creep in and begin to erode his confidence.  But when Victor was here…. He actually _did_ feel like someone worthy of love.  And a gold medal.  And two sponsorships from his home country that were offering to pay him tens of millions of yen to just keep doing what he was already doing.

“Am I silly?” he asked. 

“Sometimes,” Victor said, but the admission was full of affection.  “But my job is to get you so used to winning that you don’t think of yourself as anything but a winner.”

“What about you, mister I-only-won-silver-when-up-against-my-fiancé?”

“Oh, I’m going to get that gold back next year, don’t you worry.”

“Not without a fight, you’re not.”

The words had escaped Yuuri’s lips before he could stop them, but they caused joy to well up in Victor’s eyes.  “Oh, I love it when you get competitive, Yuuri!  Say, want to have a rematch of that game we tried last week, the one where we”

“Victor!”  Yuuri felt his face immediately flush at the memories of _that_ particular game.  Which he’d won.  Victor had complained it was Yuuri’s unfair stamina edge.  Ah, the power of youth, he’d proclaimed, at which point Yuuri reminded him that he was only four years older and still hadn’t seen his thirtieth year yet and was hardly in a place to complain about youthful advantages.

“Later, then,” Victor purred.  “Let’s eat.  I picked up the movie, too.”  Victor waved around the newly purchased copy of the latest Studio Ghibli film. Victor's choice.  They alternated on their weekly dinner-and-a-movie nights. 

They settled in to watch the movie, huddled together for comfort instead of warmth, now that the bitter Russian winter had finally lost its grip on the city. 

“Victor, what was your first medal in skating?” Yuuri asked lazily.  “We put all my starting medals in the shelf, but I don’t see any of yours from before you started winning the Russian nationals.”

Victor’s happy mask slipped briefly before he put it back on.  “It was a city children’s championship,” he said after a moment.  “I was only six.  It was…. a long time ago.”  He looked off in the distance.  “You’re the first person to ever ask me that question.  Everyone else seems to have assumed I sprung fully formed from Yakov’s forehead when I was twelve.”

Yuuri knew he had accidentally touched on a sore spot for his fiancé.  Victor _never_ talked about his childhood. Someday Victor would open up about that time in his life.  Maybe it hurt Yuuri just a little bit that he hadn’t, yet.  But if Victor was willing to overlook Yuuri’s anxiety, then Yuuri was willing to overlook his reluctance to discuss his life before professional figure skating.

Maybe for Victor, talking about his past was one of the hardest things in the world, too.

 


	4. Parallels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are not so different after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOI Week 2017: Day 4 -The Inferno, Parallels

Yuuri and him were not so different, Victor thought.

Aside from their skating, one might assume that the two had _nothing_ in common.  Or, if one were being uncharitable, they might assume that the things they had in common on the surface – the love of poodles, for example – were simply things that Yuuri had imitated in Victor, during his lifelong admiration.

(Oh, Victor knew all about Yuuri’s infatuation.  He found it endearing.  Mari had told him about the posters in his room that had been there since childhood – and about the time she walked in while Yuuri was kissing one of them.  She’d been under hurt and embarrassed orders to knock at all times after _that_ incident, or so she had relayed to Victor one drunken evening in Yu-Topia.) 

Victor had not been ashamed to display his own Yuuri Katsuki souvenir poster as soon as they’d gotten to Saint Petersburg – he’d learned that Mariko had had them made up after he won his first Japanese national championship.  The one with all the cherry blossoms splattered across it that he’d encountered at the train station was from the previous year’s season – and championship.

Truly, Yuuri had no idea how proud all the people of Hasetsu were of him. 

The same was also true of St. Petersburg and Victor.  Indeed, all of Russia recognized him as their national hero. 

Most of the time he could travel without issue, especially in the winter, when he would be bundled up against the bitter cold in so many layers that he was indistinguishable from anyone else.

But when the weather began to warm, he would sometimes find himself to be the subject of whispers and stares from strangers.  Figure skaters weren’t really _celebrities_ but they were well recognized athletes, especially popular and successful ones.

Early on, he’d learned he could give fans a thrill by waving back and showing them his cheerful face – the _mask_ as Yuuri had dubbed it in one candid moment – and watching as they nearly fainted from the recognition.  _Victor Nikoforov_ had waved back at them. _Victor_ had smiled at them.  He had acknowledged them – and happily! 

The real Victor was not shown to those fans.  And the same went with Yuuri.  All their fans ever saw was them on the ice.  And Yuuri turned into a completely different person on the ice, showing his emotions to the world in a way that no one but Victor ever saw anywhere else.  The real Yuuri, the _secret_ Yuuri, was only visible the ice and otherwise belonged solely to Victor. 

Victor was _exactly_ the same – but even more closed off.  He wanted to surprise the audience, and as he’d grown and matured he’d learned that often meant baring his feelings onto the ice in a shocking way.  _Stay Close to Me_ had been one of his most personal performances yet, channeling his loneliness and working through a bitter sadness that was teetering on the edge of depression.  And the audience had cheered and laughed and cried, assuming it all to be a melodramatic act, because Victor on the podium had smiled and waved, even though on the inside he was slowly dying.

“Victor,” Yuuri mumbled, blinking his eyes in the morning light, streaming from the tiny window next to them.  He yawned mightily, then rubbed his eyes.  “What time is it, and how long have you been staring at me?”

They had taken an overnight train to Moscow for a weekend trip.  Yuuri’s first trip to Moscow, in fact.  For Victor, the trip would have been an ordinary boring thing, but with Yuuri, it was going to be a hundred times more exciting.  A thousand times.  Seeing the architecture reflected in his eyes.  If Victor had all the time and money in the world, he would do nothing but travel around the world with Yuuri, turning every day into a grand adventure.

“Not long enough,” Victor said smoothly, and planted a quick kiss on his fiancé’s forehead.  “I’ll never stare at you long enough.”

The gentle blush that spread from the roots of Yuuri’s hair all across his face was also something that Victor would never grow tired of.

“If it’s dawn, we’ll be there soon, won’t we,” Yuuri said, always slightly unsure of how to respond to Victor’s never-ending flirtations in public.   In private, he’d learned to take them in stride, but he was just so _Japanese_ sometimes that Victor wanted to giggle. 

“Mm.  Soon.”

“So…. What were you thinking, while you were staring at me?” Yuuri finally managed to get out, as his curiosity overtook his innate shyness. 

“How much we are alike, in some ways,” Victor answered honestly.  “I think that it makes our few differences stand out so much more.”  He reached for Yuuri’s hand then, and absently rubbed the golden ring that encircled his fiance's finger.   “Two lines in parallel, on different planes but running toward the same direction.  In sync.”

“I hope my line never goes another direction, then,” Yuuri said, and that earned him another kiss from Victor.  He blinked again, then snuggled down in his seat.  “Wake me when we arrive.”

“Of course, love,” Victor said.  “Don’t mind me, I’m going to be staring at you some more.”

“I don’t mind, if it’s you, Victor.”

No.  They were not so different, after all.


	5. Stay Close to Me, Rivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are three types of rivalries, as Victor now knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOI Week 2017, Day 5: Stay Close to Me, Rivalry

There are many different types of rivalries, Victor mused, staring at the display shelf that contained all their medals.

There was a healthy rivalry, the kind that he and Chris shared, and the kind that had blossomed unexpectedly between Yuuri and Yurio.  It was the kind that pushed each person to do their best.  Figure skating was as much about self-improvement as it was the competitions, which is why judges and commenters always mentioned personal best scores whenever a skater had done better than before.  Especially with each season’s programs staying with them, it was useful to compare and easy to tell when a skater was having an off day.

But there was also an unhealthy rivalry.  The kind that pushed the darkness in a skater.  The kind that led to petty grievances.  The kind that ate away at you.

Once, Victor had fallen victim that.  Just once.

The rival was a skater from the states, who resented Victor’s early junior career dominance. David.  David had taken to sending hateful emails, saying bad things about Victor during interviews.  Somehow it had gone from rivalry to an unexplainable obsession, a grudge.  David had almost become a stalker.

Yakov had wisely told him not to reciprocate.  One of the few times that Victor had listened to Yakov.  Victor was generally a good judge of character, or so he liked to think, and he could sense the darkness floating beneath the surface in the way that David acted whenever they faced each other in competition.

When he was sixteen, David had pushed himself too hard during his first senior season.  He had torn his ACL.  Karmic retribution, Yakov had huffed at the time, but for Victor it was a reminder of the fragility of what he loved doing.  At any time, any of them could have such a career ending injury.  There was no karma or justice in an accident.

He had written a letter to David, apologizing profusely for any slights.  He wished him well, and offered help in any way that he could.

David had not written back.  A bitter grudge was probably only worsened by watching the person you despised do so well.

There was a third type of rivalry, though, Victor had just recently discovered.  One somehow even more wholesome and amazing than the healthy frenemy-ships that skating coaches encouraged. 

He touched the glass case, staring at Yuuri’s hard earned world championship medal.  Gold, cozied up next to Victor’s silver, side by side.  The amazing part was that he wasn’t upset about the loss – after all, it meant he’d be marrying the love of his life in July.  But it wasn’t even a selfish pleasure from his impending nuptials.  It was genuine pride and joy at what Yuuri had accomplished. 

It was something that Victor had never known he could feel, the idea that someone else’s successes could bring him such an intense rush of excitement.  But he’d felt it with Yuuri, and he sensed if he embarked on coaching as a career once he retired for good, it might be something he felt with many students.  Did Yakov feel this way?  Did all coaches?

The desire to win again was still there, but it was smothered in a contentment that the man he loved was an _equal_ and in all ways a _worthy_ rival to have, unlike David.  Yuuri, too, had had a borderline obsession with Victor, as he’d pieced together from all their interactions over the last year, but there was adulation and admiration, not hatred.  Yuuri had loved him even before he knew him – although he had loved and admired Victor’s mask, not the man.

The fact that he _did_ love the man even more so after really seeing him was a miracle. 

“Staring at them isn’t going to make them multiply,” Yuuri said, emerging from the kitchen where he’d been making dinner.  Just cabbage and the roast for himself, although Victor got warm bread along with his meal.  Yuuri was being a lot more careful in this off season before they started ramping up for competitions in the summer.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.  The more we stare at them, the more we want them, and isn’t that the best way to get more of them next year?”

Yuuri reached up from behind to give him a soft hug.  Victor melted into the gesture, and patted Yuuri’s arm. 

A _comfortable_ rivalry, where supporting the other was even more important than defeating each other.  A rivalry blanketed in love.  A rivalry that was not serious but at the same time incredibly deep, more important than anything else.  Beating Chris was like a game.  Beating David hadn’t even been a challenge – the boy had shown promise, but his anger came through too much in his skating. (The same problem Georgi had.  Victor had never looked at Georgi as a rival for that reason, even though the younger man had desperately wanted that kind of acknowledgement.)

But beating his Yuuri wasn’t a game.  And it _was_ a challenge.  Yuuri was good, and at his best he was in some ways even better than Victor.  Raw emotion channeled into a dance, sending sparks along with ice chips as Yuuri moved.

 “Are we still on for the theater tonight?”  Yuuri asked him.

“Yeah.  Another new experience with you.” 

Yuuri laughed. “I’ve definitely never seen an opera performed.”

“You’ll like _La Traviata._ I’ve thought about skating to the Brindisi Waltz for a free program, but I’d need to have a shortened arrangement made.”

“I can’t wait to hear it.”  Yuuri tugged him toward their tiny breakfast nook.  “Come eat.”

No, beating Yuuri was not the most important thing at all.

Just being with him.  That was it.  Coaching him had been wonderful, but being able to skate _against_ him was on another level entirely.

_An equal._

Victor reached down and kissed Yuuri’s hand before he followed him to eat.


	6. An Expensive Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's first time with a meal that reached four digits.

They really were the opposites in a lot of ways, Yuuri thought, staring at Victor across the table.

Victor was a foodie to the core.  He loved eating new things; the rarer and more exotic, the better.  Price didn’t matter – he had been just as excited to try In-N-Out in the airport as he was the French Laundry, where he was currently happily chowing down on three hundred dollar appetizer.

Yuuri preferred comfort food to Victor’s bottomless gourmand stomach, but he would follow Victor to the ends of the earth, and apparently that also included restaurants far outside of his comfort zone that required reservations months in advance. 

When they’d decided on Napa Valley for their wedding, having a dinner at this place had been on Victor’s bucket list from the beginning.   Yuuri had balked at the cost – he _still_ wasn’t used to not having to scrimp and save to pay for plane tickets – but Victor had been insistent.  And considering the clientele surrounding them, Yuuri initially had an enormous sense of imposter syndrome, but when a man Yuuri recognized as George Clooney walked up and asked for a selfie with _them -_ it was slightly alleviated.

The next course came out.  Yuuri could watch Victor eat all day.  He never actually _over_ indulged, and unlike Yuuri, his metabolism and extra height allowed him to burn off a multitude of sins, but he just got so excited over each tiny dish they were given.  When he found out he could order an extra round of truffles on the side, his eyes watered happily.  They had a wine pairing (another two hundred dollars each) and there were dozens of other options provided (all with additional price tags.  Of course.)

“Yuuuuuri,” Victor whined suddenly, setting his fork down.  “You’re not eating.”

“Oh,” Yuuri said, and looked down at his untouched plate. 

“You don’t like it….?”

“No no!” he denied.  Truth be told, it was some of the most intense flavors he’d ever experienced.  “I’m just enjoying watching you.”

It was really _really_ hard to make Victor Nikoforov blush, but that time Yuuri managed to do it.

“A lesser man might feel self-conscious at such a statement,” Victor quipped, and gave his mouth a swipe with a napkin.  “But did you ever think that I might enjoy watching you, too?”

They had a lot in common, too, of course.  Staring at your partner eating wasn’t exactly the kind of stuff one put on a dating profile, but it was clearly a trait they both found endearing.

“This is my first time having a wine pairing,”  Yuuri suddenly blurted out.  “I’d always wanted to try one, but I usually backed out and went with something safer.”  And cheaper, he added mentally.

“Ah!  Another first!”  Victor beamed at him.  “At restaurants like this you should always go for a paired wine.  The sommeliers know better than we do what is coming out on the plates that day.”

“What is your favorite wine?”  Yuuri asked.  There were still little things like that they didn’t know about each other.   Rather than absorb each other all at once, over the last year they had seeped in slowly, picking up tiny habits, growing closer at their own pace.  Every little factoid that Yuuri learned about Victor got added to the giant package of Victor trivia he carried around with him.  And Yuuri had been slightly thrilled to know that Victor, too, had a large bank of Yuuri observations that was ever growing.

Even today, Victor sometimes surprised him.

“You’d think it was a French wine, or a Russian wine, or something fancy like that,” Victor said slowly, his eyes glazing over slightly as he went back in time.  “But the most delicious wine I ever had was an American – and not from here in Napa, surprisingly.  It was from Georgia – the US state, not the country...  A rare grape varietal called Petit Manseng that took to the mountains there.  I had it in Atlanta.  _Once._   It was like drinking liquid sunshine.”  Victor swished the wine in his glass around, staring at the dark red color.  “Don’t get me wrong, what we’re drinking now is definitely top notch, but that wine I had in Atlanta was beyond spectacular.”

And so – Yuuri made a little mental note to look up a winery in Georgia that had that varietal, and maybe someday surprise Victor with another bottle.

“What about you?  Is champagne your favorite?”

“Yes. I like the fizzy,” Yuuri admitted.  “I’ll probably like any sparkling wine, but I’ve never met a champagne I didn’t like.”

Victor didn’t say anything to that, but he smirked at him across the table as he reached down for another indulgent bite of their ridiculously expensive meal. Oh, Victor knew  _that_ factoid already. 

Yuuri took that as his cue to dig in to the tiny plate of food in front of him as well.  Gingerly, he portioned off a small piece with his fork, and he made sure to give it a good sniff before biting into it, because everything here had been exquisitely made and it would be a shame to miss out on the total feast of the senses.

 

* * *

 

After dinner was over, and they’d had a meet and greet with the kitchen staff and then retired to the patio outside for an extra cup of cappuccino, Yuuri found himself lost the sunset.   It turned Victor’s platinum hair to molten gold.  It was late. But they were on vacation, and while they’d promised Yakov they would practice their routines while they were out here, they’d made no such promises about sticking to a sensible sleep schedule.  Who could, with the jet lag?

They’d slept on the plane, something they were both very used to from a lifetime of worldwide travel.  First class for this trip, not coach, Victor had insisted.  But Yuuri didn’t mind coach – they’d lift the armrest between them, and just sleep in a comfortable pile, Victor losing a sense of place once in a while and nuzzling Yuuri’s neck.

“I want to come back here again,” Victor said, and looked squarely at Yuuri.  “Every anniversary?”

“Victor, we spent almost $1500 for a single meal.  I don’t think it’s financially wise to plan to fly out here _every year_ and waste that kind of money.”

“It wouldn’t be wasted,” Victor argued.  “Every other year.”

“Every five years,” Yuuri bargained upward.  In five years they’d both be retired from skating. He tried not to think about that bleak future.

“Every three,” Victor countered. 

Yuuri inhaled the crisp air of the vineyard.  “Fine.  Everything third anniversary.  But if for some reason this place closes, can we _please_ replace it with someplace in Japan or Europe?  Flying to the states for a single meal seems like the sort of strange thing eccentric celebrities do.”

“ _Aren’t we_ the eccentric celebrities?”  Victor said, his grin growing cheeky.

“Maybe _you_ are,”  Yuuri said, sipping his coffee primly.  “I’m just a dime a dozen figure skater –“

“ _World Champion-“_

“-certified by the JSF.”

The two men began laughing aloud together.  Being in a partnership as equals was unlike anything else, Yuuri decided.  They were comfortable.  Natural. 

They were going to be _married_ in just a few weeks.

A tendril of dread came from nowhere, but Yuuri pushed it down.  He was getting better at that, with Victor’s confidence to counteract the monster that ate Yuuri from the inside on bad days.

But still, Yuuri was suddenly beginning to understand the phrase “cold feet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after debating whether to post this now or delay til after I wrote additional chapters, I decided to not hold myself in linear time with these vignettes. I will bounce back and forth over the year after the GPF in the series, and put things where they feel natural as inspiration strikes.


End file.
